“Well, sir, there is one thing sure enough, we must make the best of our way towards some island. The ship won’t float a week.”
“Think not?”
“Sure of it, sir. Collision with us didn’t improve her. No, she won’t float.”
“Well, we must beach her.”
“Yes; that is, if we can fall in with an island to beach her on.”
“Another thing is this, mate, we must try to keep in the track of vessels, outward or homeward bound.”
“Yes, captain, that’s our only holt.”
“You see, mate, if we strike some lonely out-of-the-world island, we run the chance of lying there till we rot, even if our bones are not picked by hostile natives.”
“True, sir, true.”
“Well, in the route from China to England round the Horn there are many islands, so there are in the route ’twixt Sydney and England viâ Panama. Our plan will be to repair ship, and bear up for some of these. With God’s good help, I think we may reach an island in safety. If the worst comes to the worst, we have still the boats.”